


Wild Peaches

by melwil



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melwil/pseuds/melwil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One night she danced across his kitchen floor, singing sexy songs as he washed the dirty dinner dishes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wild Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2002

It didn't seem right, but he discovered that all her curves fell in the usual places. The first time, a time when he dived in despite better judgment, he ran his hand over the full expanse of her skin. She surprised him, because she felt like every other woman he had ever touched.

Her head was propped up on fluffed pillows and she laughed at his surprise. She laughed at him a lot, at the way his eyes grew large and sweat beaded on his palms and, because he needed a haircut, his hair fell into his eyes. He was chastised, became a small boy in a pair of short pants. She pulled him forward, pulled him into her lips, and he grew up again.

Sometimes, when she was fully dressed and no one could tell their secret, he watched her. He would stand still, disguised behind the solid glass wall. The assembled crowd would hit her with their loaded missiles, and she batted them back with a charming half smile. She was firm, and strong, and he knew that she could see him over the heads of cantankerous reporters.

He could see the gentle bends of her figure underneath the barely clinging fabrics she liked to wear, but the other secrets were kept locked away where he couldn't hope to find them.

"Have you slept with anyone who works in the White House?" She asked him one night in the darkness.

"Yes." Ginger, once. And the girl from the First Lady's office. And Josh a hundred years ago. "You?"

"I'm not telling." And a parade of his workmates flashed through his mind.

One night she danced across his kitchen floor, singing sexy songs as he washed the dirty dinner dishes. He begged her to drop her clothes to the cold tile floor and she laughed and hit a high note. She dropped a kiss on her forehead and he traced a soapy line between her collar bones. He though she would smack his hand away, protesting about the importance of dry cleaning and the necessity of preserving delicate fabrics. But she pulled him closer and he kissed the lemon fresh bubbles.

She never seemed quite right in his spartan apartment. He believed she should have the best of thing, luxury and extravagance, rather than the stray possessions he'd cobbled together. The things that Lisa didn't throw out or keep for herself. The best he did for CJ, the only thing he thought worthy of her, was keeping an expensive body wash in his shower.

It made her smell like wild peaches.

She didn't visit him for three months. She told him why, warned him how it would look bad and how there would be just too much explaining to do. He heard her words, but didn't believe them, because human beings are human beings and people should understand love.

He pulled further away from them all, spent late nights with his office door closed, snuck out of the inauguration parties before the fun really started. She watched him, and he knew it. She wanted to know when he would break. She wanted to know if he knew she was sleeping with Toby.

He knew. He understood.

She watched him return to his law books. Watched the half hearted way he presented information to the President. Watched how he always left the building on his own.

She knocked on his door after midnight and he let her in.

"You want to leave."

It wasn't a question. She never asked the questions.

"I don't want to leave." His voice barely raised a whisper.

"Yes, you do."

"Well . . ." He shrugged. "You know."

She nodded. She understood where he was coming from. They all understood where he was coming from.

"Will you say goodbye when you leave?" She sat in front of his desk and he tried to ignore her legs.

"Why did you leave me?" Curiosity may have killed the cat, but he needed to know.

She looked at the ground. "I didn't think it was a good idea."

"What did Toby think?" He had crossed the line.

"Don't forget to say goodbye Sam."

He watched her leave, watched the way people stopped as she walked past. He thought he could smell wild peaches.


End file.
